


Orlesian Lace

by Lightspeed



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjob Through Panties, Coming in Panties, Exhibitionism, Fashion & Couture, Lace Panties, Licking, Lingerie, M/M, Or at least thoughts of such, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bull expresses an interest in seeing Dorian in lingerie, the altus tries to figure out how to go about having such illicit goods made.  He consults his first instinct for matters of clothing, but perhaps he needs a bit more of a stealthy touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orlesian Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forgottensunflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=forgottensunflowers).



"Little bows and things, you know? Lace, cute stuff like that." It sounded so casual, nothing unusual or scandalous, let alone kinky. But that was how The Iron Bull was. It didn't matter that he was telling his lover that he wanted to see him trussed up in ladies' lingerie, and that level of comfort just made the idea seem so normal. So unremarkable.

"You can't be serious." Dorian rolled his eyes, rolling over to face Bull. The warmth of his bare skin was gone from his quickly cooling back, and he slotted himself in against the Tal-Vashoth's side to try and banish the chill of the room's drafty air. Even with a fire going, their quarters in Skyhold were never exactly cozy, and it had been with no small amount of shame that the Tevinter hothouse flower had taken to staying the night after he and Bull had concluded their festivities, warming himself against the massive mercenary who had so bafflingly arrested his fancy.

"What? Not everything is leather and manacles and ropes with me," Bull laughed. "You've got the legs for it."

Since their relationship had begun, Bull had always been the one to see to Dorian's needs. Indulge his kinks. Make sure he got his jollies as effectively as possible. It wasn't exactly one-sided. Bull quite liked many of the same things, and it was no secret the former-Qunari liked it rough, but this had possibly been the first time he'd ever mentioned something he'd like Dorian to bring to the proceedings. It was intriguing.

"I'm not denying that, but it's a bit unusual to hear this sort of request made of a man."

"That's what makes it hot. That and it just being hot," Bull growled, his hand slipping up the Tevinter's side to pet at his smooth skin.

Dorian laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of the mercenary's chest. "Do you put so little effort into your eloquence so you have energy for all of that enthusiasm?"

"Keeps you on your toes." Bull gave his lover a grin, wrapping strong arms around to pull the smaller man atop him. "When I'm not making them curl."

 

***

 

"Truly? Even in a court known for such flair in their decadence?" Dorian asked, a laugh on his lips as he looked to the first enchanter walking beside him, their shoes clacking on the stone floors in the echoing halls of Skyhold.

He'd approached Vivienne on her way from the gardens, a question of Orlesian fashion on his lips. If there was anyone in this damned keep who would understand clothing and the power it can hold, it was the iron lady. If only he could figure out exactly how to ask her what he needed to.

It had been weeks since Bull had mentioned, offhandedly, that he'd love to see Dorian in lingerie. Lacy under things. Little bows and suspenders and stockings up to his thighs. It had been forgotten as quickly as it had come up, at least in conversation. But the idea had stuck in Dorian's mind, turning and aging and growing ripe. Thoughts of Bull's hands all over him as he stood resplendent in white lace before him. Of the massive man on his bad knees, head bowed, nose buried in the fabric of panties that barely restrained the Tevinter's erection. Of his own stocking-clad legs pinned at either side of his head as Bull could not contain himself in his lust.

It had become an idle fantasy that rattled around Dorian's head when he was trying to get more important things done, and few things put a damper on research than an insistent erection and niggling lurid thoughts.

So here he was, trying to carefully coax ideas from Madame De Fer herself without incriminating himself. It was a disastrously stupid course of action.

Vivienne demurred, amusement colouring her tones, "My dear, do you honestly think we're complete deviants? Exposing that much of oneself at court is a scandal, no matter how coquettishly presented, nor how much artistry employed." She laughed, a short sound that made Dorian think of cold steel honed to an edge. "Though it certainly became the talk of the night, even after he was asked to leave. So perhaps he accomplished exactly what he set out to do. Not a single courtier would deny the shapeliness of his legs."

"Such tragedy, to have missed such a bon mot, being trapped in the courts of Tevinter." A mock sigh escaped the altus, his dismay exaggerated enough to summon a small chuckle from his companion. "So rarely do scantily clad men sneak into our soirees."

"Well, I should hope they bother to invite you," Vivienne joked with a smirk.

"Madame De Fer, are you making intimations as to my taste in fashion?" The mock scandal was almost too much for Dorian to escalate, his hand falling across his heart like an old Chantry cleric.

"Dear Altus, I believe it was you of the two of us whom broached the subject of Orlesian lace. If it was not confession, then I must assume you're looking for advice," the iron lady replied.

"I'm not going to say I couldn't make use of it. After all, I fancy I'd look rather fetching in something elaborate with a bustle, don't you?" He grinned, deflecting the teasing with absurdity, and was pleased to hear a genuine titter from Vivienne.

"My dear, a bustle upon you would be an utmost tragedy. That sort of exaggeration is best left for those of outrageous station or outrageous plainness, and a torso in the shape of a tube. No, I would cinch that slim waist with some corsetry and a bodice patterned to draw the eye downward. Perhaps show off the length of your legs with something sleek that widens toward the hem." She eyed him up and down, a thoughtful gloved hand upon her chin.

"Nothing short with ruffles like our dear Ser Humboldt?"

"Hardly! Garb so garish is for those without pretty faces, darling."

"Your flattery is as deadly as your scorn, Madame."

"Sharpen anything enough and it will pierce a heart," Vivienne chuckled, turning to enter the stairwell to her balcony. "Might I invite you for a visit? The Inquisitor has managed to salvage a vintage properly worth imbibing, in a surprising turn of events, and has kindly acquiesced to my request to claim it."

Dorian considered it a moment. The Inquisitor adding a wine to the cellar other than the strange variety of putrid Grey Warden ritewines she had a habit of decorating the lower shelves with, as if to imply that even The Inquisition requires bottom-shelf liquor. But all the same, he worried what this line of conversation would turn to if he stayed. Vivienne, while amiable, was by no means a person to trust with one's secrets, and she had already gained enough ammunition from him for one day. He put on his most apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I must decline. I've some matters to attend to, but perhaps another time, Madame?"

"Another time then, darling," Vivienne nodded, bidding him a farewell before closing the door behind her.

Sagging a bit, the altus let out a deep breath. No luck, other than the knowledge that ruffles were not his look.

"Ruffles are for those without pretty faces? Yet she wears a collar that broad," came a voice from behind Dorian, and in his shock, he fairly jumped from his skin, wheeling around with a yelp of surprise.

Josephine jumped in response, eyes wide. She hadn't even realized she's snuck up on the mage, and a light squeak escaped her.

"How long have you been eavesdropping, Lady Montilyet?" Dorian accused, trying desperately to regain his composure.

"I did no such thing!" the ambassador defended herself with a pout. "There is a difference between eavesdropping and overhearing, and with Madame De Fer, it is nearly impossible to avoid the latter." She took a breath and tried to calm her nerves, resuming her veneer of diplomacy. "Either way, I am sorry to have disturbed you, Dorian."

A wave of his hand dismissed the altus' sourness. "Think nothing of it."

They nodded in understanding, and Josephine lingered, poised to continue on her way, but curiosity gnawing at her like a cat craving attention. She turned, ready to leave, and gathered herself up, then gave in and turned back to Dorian with a sweep of her clipboard. "Forgive me for asking, but Orlesian fashion? Is Vivienne planning to dress you up like some expensive doll?"

Dorian chuckled at that. Josephine could never leave well enough alone. "Hardly, though I certainly would be the loveliest doll in Skyhold."

"Such a small range of comparison! You'd at least be the loveliest doll in Ferelden," Josephine laughed.

"Not exactly sparkling company, considering the majority of dolls in Ferelden are stuffed mabari."

"You have me there," she chuckled. "So what did bring corsetry into the conversation?"

She wasn't eavesdropping, eh? The Tevinter shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. "Walk with me?"

"Of course."

Dorian led Josephine into her office, seeking to leave the prying ears of the gathered nobility and ambassadors that seemed to crowd the great hall of Skyhold like pests. Once the door was closed behind them, he sighed. "Lady Montilyet, you are a woman of words and threats, but I also find myself more willing to trust you than many others amongst the nobility here. I do hope that isn't misplaced."

Josephine's eyebrows danced up her forehead at that. This was sounding less an entertaining conversation and more some sort of dire confession. She set her clipboard down on her desk and blew out its candle, then returned her gaze to the altus now rounding to sit beside the fireplace. "Dorian, is something wrong?"

"Nothing of the sort, simply...a bit scandalous."

"Scandalous?"

"I came to Vivienne seeking to glean advice of a sort, though in retrospect she was perhaps the worst person with whom I should attempt to broach the subject of how one might find a tailor specializing in lace."  
"In lace?" The ambassador looked utterly confused. What use would Dorian have for a specialist tailor who works in lace? Certainly it was out of fashion in Orlais, and Tevinter had never been known for such delicate finery. Fereldens were devotees to fur. It would be utterly gauche to wear lace linings this season, and fashionable and well-groomed as Dorian was, he would certainly know that. "What ever for?"

"I—I honestly have to spell out the reason I would need--" Dorian sighed, rubbing at a temple with his fingertips. "It's for a gift, of sorts. Something a bit illicit. A bit...cheeky?"

"Illicit? A gift? In lace—Dorian you're speaking of having lace lingerie made?" A blush spread across the Antivan's ruddy cheeks, and she looked absolutely scandalized. "But, I thought—oh please don't take offense to this but I was aware that you preferred, ah, men." She shrugged lamely, her scandal petering out in the face of her own indelicate wording.

It drew a soft chuckle from Dorian, who shook his head. "I do."

"But you want to have women's underthings made?"

"If I'm having them made then they wouldn't be _women's_ underthings, would they?" He sat back, crossing his legs. Putting on a mask of smugness did wonders to dispel his own nerves, creeping up his spine and making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

"I—I suppose not." Josephine strode over, sitting in the other chair beside the fire. "So, a gift? Who is it for?"

"Awfully inquisitive, aren't you? Should Lady Trevalyan be concerned for her position's security?"

With a frown, the Antivan sighed.

"Fine," Dorian relented with a smirk, having regained the upper hand. "It's a little treat. He's expressed an interest in seeing me in such things."

Josephine bit her lip and tried to chase away thoughts of Dorian scantily clad in lace. "He has, has he? So, am I to assume the rumours are true?"

"Yes, I'm afraid," Dorian sighed exaggeratedly, casting his gaze to the hearth. "I actually  _am_ the most beautiful man in Skyhold. Do let Blackwall down easy when you tell him the news, yes?"

Josephine's laugh was barely restrained and sat in her nose, shaking her shoulders as she made an effort not to snort. "I'm sure he'll be crushed."

"But yes, if you're referring to the very scandalous and very lascivious rumours spreading like wildfire that myself and The Iron Bull are something of an item, that is true. For weal or woe."

"I must admit, he  _is_ rather charming, but I wasn't aware he was your type," the ambassador confessed.

"Truly? I wasn't either. He speaks plainly, but it hides a terribly sharp mind. And a man who spends much of his life in libraries can appreciate that. And I doubt you can deny that Par Vollen builds its men like very, very attractive fortresses."

"You haven't been reading things off of my book shelf, have you?" Josephine teased.

"With that sort of question, I might have to start. It must be better than the dreadful dreck Seeker Pentaghast reads," Dorian teased.

"Varric's work is best left to action and intrigue, perhaps."

"Though I had no idea the dwarves had so many clever euphemisms for certain types of anatomy!"

They chuckled, and Josephine thought a moment. "So, Bull wants you—"

"—to wear lingerie, yes. Well, he'd mentioned it some time ago. I thought I'd surprise him. But honestly, I'm at a loss as to where to begin with such tailoring. I need someone discreet who can craft in such delicate fabrics, but at least make them strong enough to stand up to a bit of...strenuous use," the altus explained, trying to remain as careful in his wording as he could.

"And with the potential experience with your differing anatomy to make it flattering," Josephine added with a nod, tapping her finger against her lower lip. "I'm sorry to say, but this isn't exactly my realm of expertise. I know several reputable tailors, but I'm unsure as to their ability to be discreet. However, I'm sure I know someone who does."

"And another is to know about my illicit needs?"

"We could just go ask Vivienne again."

Dorian sighed. "Alright. Who is this mystery pervert?"

 

*

 

"Lacy lingerie! How utterly scandalous!" Leliana's thick Orlesian accent made the phrase seem even more perverse in her excitement. She seemed entirely too entertained by the prospect, and it made Dorian wilt as the nightingale took up a spot leaning beside the fireplace, a smile on her lips. "You are just full of surprises, are you not, altus?"

"One must find ways to keep the spymaster on her toes, must one not?" Dorian demurred with a roll of his eyes.

"I do so like a challenge," she laughed. "But you were wise to come to me. I indeed do know some reputable and discreet tailors who can do this work for you, Dorian. It's surprising how often a bard ends up procuring delicate things for her patrons. I will send word to my most trusted associate. She will, of course, need to take your measurements in person for something like this."

"I would rather it here than in her shop," the altus smirked. "Thank you, Leliana. I owe you ladies a debt, and I dearly hope that the fruit of my labours is worth the mortification it continues to bring me."

Leliana and Josephine shared a look, repressing lurid giggles, and the spymaster turned back to the altus. "All I ask is that I be allowed to learn if the fruit of your labours is worth it as well. Then, your debt will be paid," she chirped with a grin.

"Detail, perhaps?" Josephine added.

Dorian hung his head. He worked with such perverted women.

 

*

 

"Kadan," Bull sighed, closing the door to Dorian's quarters. He smiled, warmly at the sight of the Tevinter mage standing before the full-body mirror he kept, admiring his reflection.

He was wearing a set of white robes, trimmed with the telltale iridescent orange of dragon webbing. They were unusual for Dorian's fashion, with no body-hugging brown leathers to be seen, and draped over his form loosely. It wasn't particularly unflattering to Bull's eye, but certainly odd for the vain altus, who typically enjoyed showing a bit of skin and a lot of his very attractive shape.

"Good of you to come," Dorian teased, half-turning to smile roguishly to his lover.

Bull crossed the room, wrapping his arms around the human and pulling him close. He leaned down to speak just above his ear, "Give me a little bit and it will be."

The heat of Bull's breath against his skin gave Dorian a chill, and he inhaled deeply, enshrouded in the mercenary's warm embrace. How he could be both at once terribly intimidating and lovingly comforting, the altus could never grasp, but it left him completely enchanted with the charming Tal-Vashoth.

"Let me know when you arrive," he hummed, sinking back into Bull's warmth.

"You'll be the first to know, Kadan," came Bull's chuckling reply, and a light nip to the tip of his ear. "First thing, let's get you out of this ballgown."

"Ballgown?" Dorian laughed, as the larger man's hands began to trace the shapes of his body, pressing down on loose fabric to feel the slim lines beneath.

"It might as well be, for all it hides you. I want to see you, naked and beautiful," Bull growled, his hands coming up to grasp at the robes' front clasps.

Dorian's hands rose to meet Bull's, and stilled him for just a moment. Their eyes met in the mirror, and with a smile, he let his hands fall away, allowing him to proceed.

Bull hummed contentedly and made quick work of the robes' clasps, unhooking them with practiced skill. The man could unbuckle anything with the barest effort, having made undressing his lovers as quickly as possible a point of pride, as well as advertisement. When he opened the white samite of Dorian's robe, however, he was prepared to see leathers, or smallclothes, or preferably, the Tevinter's beautiful, naked form. What he did not expect to see was white lace.

Around Dorian's waist, wrapping his loins, and leading down in suspenders to his thighs, where lace rimmed a long pair of white stockings that the altus wore without shoes. Bull gasped, his eye wide, and froze, his breath catching in disbelief, staring at the mirror before them.

Dorian took a nervous breath through his nose and looked up to his lover. "Amatus?"

Bull's hands trembled, and with the barest motion, he pulled the robes off of the mage's shoulders, letting go and allowing them to drop to the floor in a pool of samite. Warm, tan skin seemed to nearly glow in the firelight, brought out by the bright, crisp white of lace and the pale grey of Bull's flesh as those still-quivering hands found their way to his shoulders. A pair of panties, constructed of sheer lace and little else in typically Orlesian floral circles with paisley leaves between them, hugged the mage's hips almost possessively, sitting just below his hipbones, and leaving just enough to the imagination in the way it outlined his privates. Little white bows sat at either side of his hips, just large enough to be cute, but small enough to avoid a garish silhouette. Sitting just above, the waist of his suspenders were similarly cast in lace, though backed in silk for sturdiness. A bow sat at their middle in the front, and they stretched down to connect to his stockings, leaving an enticing gap of bare thigh between them.

"Kadan, you—you remembered," Bull sighed, a smile somewhere between heartfelt gratitude and utter lust playing at his scarred lips.

"Well, you _were_ right. I definitely have the legs for it," Dorian grinned, following Bull's eye to the long, lean, muscular legs that flexed with his movements under white, silken hose that cleaved to his flesh like it was painted onto it.

"You look fucking breathtaking."

"I'd like to take something else, actually." Dorian turned in Bull's grasp, and heard a gasp as the mercenary glimpsed his rear in the mirror, the panties cut to allow the bottom swell of his arse to peek out, accentuating its curve perfectly. "If it's all the same to you."

It was all of the encouragement Bull needed. He backed Dorian to the bed and pushed him down onto it, taking in the sight of the muscular mage with a growl. "Shit," he hissed, hurriedly shucking his armor and strapping, his pants kicked to the floor without ceremony. He bunched the fabric into a pile in front of the bed and knelt atop it, sparing his knees the bite of the stone floor. Large hands urged Dorian to sit before him, spreading his legs for Bull to kneel between, looking up at the lingerie-clad mage with worshipful adoration. "Look at you." He ran his palms up and down the Tevinter's silk-shod legs.

Dorian smiled, sitting up with his back arched, a coquettish posture that only managed to bring snarl to Bull's throat. He buried his nose between the altus' thighs, nuzzling against the soft lace and the slowly wakening flesh behind it. Inhaling deeply, Bull relished the heat against his face, the growing stiffness held within the floral whorls of white silk nudging gently at his cheek. He could smell Dorian, in all his perfection. The musk of his body, the expensive soaps and perfumes he would bathe himself in, the scent of his arousal, it all combined to intoxicate the massive Tal-Vashoth. He moaned; a deep, rumbling sound that thrummed through the mage and made him ache.

Dextrous hands bearing rings found their way to Bull's horns, petting where they emerged from his flesh, tender fingers tracing hardened skin and keratin. "I take it you like it?"

Bull simply growled in response, his hands slipping up Dorian's thighs to grab his hips, his tongue snaking out to trail a hot, moist line up the bulge in his panties. It drew a soft sound from the mage, making him spread his legs further, cant his hips forward, beg for more. Bull gave it to him with another lick across the soft lace, and began mouthing at Dorian's erection through his panties, wrapping his lips around his shaft, his head, breathing hotly against him.

"Kaffas," Dorian gasped, gripping Bull's horns tightly. It was just as he'd imagined it, but so much better. The fabric was beginning to strain against him, his cock hard, his body alive with sensation. Every hot, moist breath against his barely-shielded skin made him throb with need. That wet tongue began rubbing circles against his lace-clad crown, the pressure and heat making him dizzy. It felt so good, even through the thin barrier between them, and the way Bull was moaning, like it was roiling out of his very _soul_ , had Dorian's mind fogging with lust.

"You were made for these," the mercenary groaned, nosing in against his lover's balls and nipping at fabric.

It made the Tevinter chuckle, "Was I, now? Made to wear frilly underthings for your arousal?"

"Yes," Bull confirmed with another long, slow lick, wetting Dorian's panties with his saliva. "You were born to wear these. To look fucking gorgeous in lace and make me _ache_ for you."

Dorian's voice caught in his throat. Bull locked eyes with him, and the honesty, the desire in his gaze was just this side of unsettling. Hunger and need were practically screamed by his single green eye. A breath left the mage in more of a shudder, stuttering and desperate, and Bull resumed nibbling and worshiping his panty-clad nethers.

"I want to make you come in these," Bull murmured against his lover's cock. "I want to lay you down, and fuck you while you still wear all of this, and make you come in all of that lace." He suckled at Dorian's head through the fabric. "Do you want that too?"

"Fasta vass, yes!" Dorian gasped, falling back without letting go of Bull's horns, urging him to follow.

Bull climbed atop Dorian and captured his lips, his stubble rough against the altus' shaven chin. He tasted of beer and warmth, his kisses strong and his tongue nimble. He invaded Dorian's mouth with skill, melting him beneath his bulk and need. When they parted, they panted for breath, and the mercenary looked about.

"Bedside table."

"Thanks," Bull chuckled, and retrieved a small pot of unguent from the top drawer of the night stand. He opened the lid and set it down, climbing off of Dorian to kneel between his legs. He slapped at the Tevinter's hip. "Hand and knees."

Dorian obeyed eagerly, presenting his ass for the larger man to enjoy. Broad hands roved the curve of his flesh, delicate beneath white lace. One hand disappeared and the other grasped his panties, tugging them aside just enough to expose the mage's hole. Bull's hand returned, fingers slick with lubricant, and slowly, he pushed one inside of his lover.

Buckling down, Dorian pressed his cheek to the sheets, a moan stifled by the fabric in his face. He gasped, arching into the touch, urging Bull forward, deeper, more. He stretched wide around those grey fingers as a second plunged into him, thrusting slowly in and out, fucking him lazily.

"Yes, yes!" Dorian urged, rolling his hips to meet the Tal-Vashoth's mighty hand. More, bigger, Bull scissored his fingers and stretched him wider, making him ready. Whines and sighs spilled over the mage's lips and through his nose, sending heat straight to Bull's balls. "More! Fuck me!"

"You're ready?" Bull asked with amusement. Dorian was always so impatient, eager to have the mercenary's massive length inside of him as soon as possible.

"Yesss," the mage hissed.

Bull slipped his fingers free of Dorian's ass and slicked himself up, slapping the smaller man's hip again. "On your back."

Again, the Tevinter obeyed, rolling back over with his legs spread and his cock standing out from his belly, stretching the lace out and dampening the fabric at its tip, which leaked lazily, ruining the silk.

Bull took a deep breath, taking in the sight of Dorian's stocking-clad legs, his suspenders, his lace panties and straining cock, and the blush that covered his cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears, a haze of lust clouding his eyes. He looked beautiful like this. Utterly perverted, but obedient and hungry and absolutely beautiful. The mercenary idly wondered what it would take to have Dorian wearing lace under his clothes all of the time.

Though that might make things awkward around Skyhold, with Bull ravishing his gorgeous lover anytime, anywhere, with frightening regularity, simply because he didn't care to control himself. Not with Dorian wearing pretty lacy lingerie under those body-hugging leathers he tarted around in. The scandal alone would be an absolute riot, though Krem would have more things to harass him about.

Still entirely worth it.

Bull snatched up the discarded robe on the floor and wiped his hand, ignoring a grunt of disgust from Dorian, and dropped it. He tugged the altus' panties aside again and lifted one of his stocking clad legs. The other followed the motion, and Bull angled himself to press the head of his cock against Dorian's hole. He steadied himself, looking down at where their bodies met. Blood-flushed grey was a rosy pink where his foreskin pulled back, and it pressed to the dusky russet of the Tevinter's entrance. The difference between their bodies, in every single way, was lovely to the Tal-Vashoth's eye.

He pushed inside, sighing as the lube-slick hole squeezed him tightly. Even stretched and ready, Dorian was tight, and hot, and felt so good around him, clenching in soft waves, sending throbs of heat through him.

Dorian's eyes rolled back and closed, lifting his legs and folding himself up to give Bull access. The mercenary was massive, his thick, hard length filling him up until their hips met. The feeling was immaculate, a pleasant fullness atop the slight burn of being stretched open. Bull's cock was fat and long and nearly an ordeal, and it made Dorian salivate as he felt it inside of him. He took a few breaths, and then those hands slipped up his legs and came to rest at the backs of his knees, pushing him down, folding him up. Bull bent him in half, knees above his face, spread wide, and then he began to thrust.

He slipped out, slowly, nearly to the tip, then slammed back in, forcing a cry from the mage, then another, then another. He fucked Dorian in long, rough strokes, shocking him with bolts of pleasure as he filled him with hard slaps of flesh to flesh. "Fuck," he growled, picking up speed before long. He was a man of control, of practiced, measured movements in bed. But like this, with silk under his hands and lace rubbing the side of his dick as he fucked Dorian in his pretty white panties, he couldn't help himself.

He didn't want to help himself.

Bull rutted into Dorian with abandon, drinking in his desperate moans, his cries verging on howls as he drove deep into the Tevinter altus and forced the breath from his lungs, pummeling his insides with his cock. The bed creaked in protest, fearful for its life, scraping over the stone floor in fits of terror. Each thrust seared into Dorian, sparks and heat searing up his spine, through his body, making his muscles clench and his cock twitch. Bull struck the right spot with each pass, sheer girth combined with terrible practiced skill to completely undo him, rattling him to his core and building pressure within him. He arched what little he could, rolling his hips with each thrust, each slap of flesh letting Bull in as deep as he could go, balls slapping his ass, his neglected cock aching in its lace prison.

He clutched at his legs, at the sheets, at his own hair, anything he could. Bull sat too far up to allow him to sling to the mercenary's horns, so he was left to flail and whimper. He cursed in Tevene, what little sense he could form his words into, the husky growls issuing from the Tal-Vashoth atop him stealing his thoughts and replacing them with only desire. He clenched around the cock inside him, drawing Bull closer, urging him to snap his hips with vicious slaps and plunge deep into him.

Bull clutched Dorian's legs like a lifeline, coming closer and closer to the edge. The mage's rippling insides, squeezing him rhythmically, were driving him mad, and the plaintive sounds that fell from his lips were almost too much. But it was the altus' orgasm that finished him.

Dorian keened, arching up, his hips juttering as he came, his pelvic floor fluttering around Bull's cock as he clenched and spurted come into his lace panties. It was ecstatic, a flood that drenched his whole body in pleasure and left him drained. He shuddered, heat blooming behind white silk as he messed his lingerie, sticky come pushing through the gaps in the lace as he spent himself into it.

The sight of it, of Dorian coming just from being fucked, filling his panties, and the lewd way his come soaked into that immaculate lace drove Bull over the edge. He fluttered and rippled around the Tal-Vashoth's cock, tugging his orgasm from him, and he buried himself deep into the altus as he came, filling him completely and pumping him full of his seed.

Heat bloomed again within Dorian, and he groaned at the throb of Bull's climax within him, writhing on the sheets.

When they came down from their high, their breaths were the only sound in the room, rushed and shallow, near gasping from their exertion. Reluctantly, Bull pulled out of his lover and tucked his panties back into place, then flopped onto the bed beside him. He pulled Dorian into his arms and snuck a hand down to slip beneath the waist of his panties, groaning at the sticky mess he found.

"I trust you've got what you wanted?" Dorian teased with a pleased sigh. He was sore and sticky, and could feel the slick slide of lubricant and come between his ass cheeks, and pressed so close to Bull's body, was utterly content.

"I have you," Bull rumbled, nipping lightly at Dorian's shoulder.

"Then I have what I want as well. Though I must say, that was surprisingly gentle."

"You made it kinky enough. All I had to do was supply the cock. Which reminds me: what are the chances we can do this again?"

"I'll need to wash these, though the silk may be ruined," Dorian frowned. "But I might be amenable. It's not like they weren't to be ruined anyway. I'm surprised they survived without being torn off of me with your teeth."

"I was tempted, believe me," Bull growled. "But I like them too much. So, what about...outside of the bedroom?"

"You mean wander about in these frilly underthings? Under my clothes?"

"Mmhmm. Perhaps more than sometimes? Let me know, maybe a peek. Keep me waiting all day for it, thinking about your ass in those panties. Your legs in stockings. Making you come through lace. It'll drive me insane, thinking about that and having to wait until we're alone."

Dorian thought a moment, Bull's lust-thick voice music to his ears. "A slow burn? I think I can get behind that."

Bull chuckled, lifting his hand from Dorian's panties to his lips. He licked a bit of the mage's sticky come from his fingertips, moaning at the taste. "As long as I can get behind you, Kadan."

**Author's Note:**

> A thank-you gift for the ever-generous tumblr user forgottensunflowers, for the gift of video game. Thank you bby!


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